


Drugged

by safety_dancer



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5006476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safety_dancer/pseuds/safety_dancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drastic times call for drastic measures</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drugged

_One hour_ , Alfred thought with a shake of his head. He told them they could have one more hour in the Cave, and then they were to go upstairs and  _sleep_. But did they listen? Of course not, so they deserved what was coming. 

Drastic times call for drastic measures, as the saying goes. 

Alfred picked up the tea tray, balancing it on the flat his palm as he walked down the steps and over to where Bruce sat in front of the monitors with Tim to his left, both going over notes and talking quietly. Alfred nearly rolled his eyes, but refrained. At least they had managed to change from the suits into some more comfortable and appropriate attire. 

“Some tea, Sirs?” he offered, setting the tray down on the expansive desktop, catching their attention. 

“Sure. Thanks, Alf,” Tim said with a small smile, his exhaustion evident in his slowed movements as he reached for two of the little cups, handing one to Bruce, who took it without a word, tossing the contents back in one go. Tim sipped his more slowly, closing his eyes as the warmth from the beverage filled him. 

“My pleasure, Master Tim.” Alfred kept the amusement he felt from showing when Tim let out a sudden yawn, the hand that held his tea cup drooping slightly. 

“Alfred.” The butler turned to Bruce who was looking accusingly at him, holding out his empty cup. 

“Yes, sir?”

“What was in this?” Alfred simply blinked.

“Tea, sir.” Bruce snorted.

“Yeah, what else?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Bruce,” Tim interjected, his words sluggish. “I’m just gonna… gonna sleep now.” He handed Alfred his cup and stumbled over to the training mats, promptly flopping down and curling into a tight ball, shutting his eyes with a loud sigh. Bruce stared at him a moment before turning his gaze back at Alfred, his scowl softened by the tiredness bleeding from every pore. 

“You drugged us,” he accused, holding back his own yawn. Alfred cocked a brow. 

“I can neither confirm nor deny that I did anything of the sort,” he stated, taking Bruce’s cup and placing it on the tray, ignoring his charge’s annoyance. Instead he said, “I suggest taking Timothy upstairs now, then going to bed yourself.”

They both looked over to where Tim lay snoring softly. Bruce sighed, pushing himself from the chair and walking over to his son, stooping to lift him in his arms with a slight grunt. “You’re not as light as you look,” he muttered to the sleeping teen. Tim responded by curling into the warmth of Bruce’s chest. Turning to Alfred, Bruce said, “that was dirty.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about, Master Bruce.”


End file.
